


The prince and his kitchen boy

by HexagonCult



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Gay Prince, M/M, Poor kitchen boy, gay love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 15:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12484888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HexagonCult/pseuds/HexagonCult
Summary: This is about the forming love story between a prince and a poor kitchen boy from the castle.





	The prince and his kitchen boy

He lay awake, staring at the dark oak, patterned posts of his bed. He was hungry.

He rolled over and closed his eyes in a pitiful attempt to try and find sleep. He gave out a long sigh when he realised he would not be able to rest until the hole in his stomach had been filled. He imagined the buns that the cooks made for him sometimes and licked his lips.

He knew the kitchen staff pretty well actually, from nights like these where he would try and sneak into the warm kitchens in the hope of finding something to eat. He was easily caught by some of the scullery maids when he was younger, cleaning the last of the pots and pans in the evening. They would give him something if there were any bits left, and he used to sit and listen to them sing as they worked.

He liked their company, people without status. He absolutely loved his lifestyle, but sometimes the pretentiousness of it all got to him.

Now of course he was older. 18 in fact, and unmarried which was surprising for his age. He had learned how not to get caught stealing food through the journey of his short life so far, as his father used to scold him when he inevitably found out.

He bolted upright in bed. He swung round and put his feet down to the cold stone floor and stood. The fire was now dwindling as smouldering and glowing logs. He put on his night shirt and walked to the large doors separating his room from the rest of the castle. Some of his muscular chest was visible through the dip in his cream tunic. The garment hung off him slightly.

He pushed open the doors starting to make as minimal sound as possible, which due to their size, didn't make much difference. Thankfully, it seemed, everyone was asleep. He paced down the hall to a servants doorway. He always used the servants passageways on occasions like this to avoid questions, and for ball's and party's he was bored of.

He stalked down the narrow passageway, walking carefully, as the only light was from few candles inset in the walls. He went down a few flights of stairs. He walked into a corridor and knew he was almost there, due to the smell of warm bread, and the friendly glow of the kitchen fire that was always light.

He slipped into the room and was delighted to see a handful of tarts on a tray on a work surface next to the opposite wall.  
He slinked over to the silver platter, picked it up, and as he turned around, smack!

He was on the floor clutching his head as he banged it against the floor. 

He looked in front of him and realised that he had banged into a kitchen boy. Well he wasn't a boy, more like a man. He had short brown hair that held a tinge of red that looked warm to touch.

The man got up and started to apologise for being so clumsy and careless. The man finally looked up at the prince and realised who he had banged Into. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. His olive skin turned pale. His deep green eyes were blown wide in panic. He was stunning, and the prince was lost for words.  
"My lord, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going" the kitchen man pleaded.  
He got back on his knees right away to clear up the spoiled tarts off the floor and collect them back on the platter.  
Prince Tyron finally got his voice back.  
The price shrugged it off.  
"Don't worry about it, its fine".  
The prince helped collect up the tarts and stood up, wiping his hands on his tunic. He then remembered he was in his night clothes, which left very little of his body to imagination. 

His muscular chest and stomach were easily depicted through his now wet tunic. He then realised that he must of knocked over a jug of water when he fell, and spilt it all over himself, which made his already displaying shirt virtually see through. He flushed a deep red, which he hoped the other did not notice.  
The other guy was incredibly handsome. The prince looked down out of embarrassment. 

"My lord, your shirt, I'm so sorry, I can dry it for you?"  
The prince could hear the panic in the other mans voice swell slightly.

"It's okay, it will dry on its own" he said. The prince went to stand by the fire in order to dry the tunic quicker, it felt cold on his chest, which wasn't helped by the fact that it was late Autumn, and it was getting colder. He shivered.

The other man noticed and rushed off somewhere. He scurried quickly back with a bed sheet.  
"My lord, you will become ill, please let me dry your shirt, it won't take long"  
This man really was trying to create a good impression, to remove the fact that he had just knocked over the future king.  
The prince was cold enough to give in, he took off his shirt and gave it to the kitchen man and quickly took the bed sheet from him and wrapped it around himself. It was warm, and it smelled nice.

The kitchen man unfolded a rack from the corner of the room, put it in front of the fire, and hung the wet tunic on it to dry. He then proceeded to wipe the kitchen clean. The prince watched him.  
"Where on earth did you get this sheet from, we are nowhere near any living quarters?".  
The kitchen man looked toward him and started to answer.  
"I sometimes sleep on here, next to the fire when it gets colder" he looked away, almost embarrassed. 

"What's your name?" The prince asked  
"Christopher, my lord"  
"Please stop calling me that, I don't like the title, it makes me feel like an idiot" the prince said.  
"My lor-" the man stopped himself "how may I address you?"  
"Tyron is just fine"  
The kitchen man seemed uncomfortable with the thought, but then said, "I'm sorry I crashed into you, Tyron" with an almost cocky smile that made Tyron's heart flutter slightly.

"Your shirt is dry"  
Tyron stood up and picked up his shirt and dropped the bed sheet to the ground.  
He then picked up the sheet and handed it back to Christopher.  
"It was nice talking to you Christopher, I hope to see you round"  
Tyron didn't wait for a response, he just walked out of the room and made for his private chambers.  
As he clambered into bed and settled in once more, he pictured the look on Christopher's face when he realised he had rammed into the prince, it made him smile. He want s to meet that man again, he seemed nice.

The Prince finally drifted off to sleep. His last thought before the warm darkness enveloped him was that he realised he forgot to eat, after all that.


End file.
